Always Watching
by Lady Kaisa
Summary: They are not human, to say the least. But they are there, some always with the Host Club, some watching from afar... How various "observers" see various members of the Host Club.
1. Photograph

_Disclaimer: I do not own Ouran. I own absolutely nothing. ….how pitiful._

**1. Photograph**

When a person dies, they themselves are no more on this earth. Their consciousness goes on, somewhere no earthly being can see nor go. They are, in a sense, gone forever. They can not return or make contact with the living. However, an imprint of the deceased remains to watch over loved ones, if they had any. When the charges are dead, even the imprint fades away, and there is no trace of them left in this world.

Thus, I am not Fujioka Kotoko. She is dead and gone. She was human, with heart, mind, spirit, and soul. I am merely a ghost, a watery copy of the original, bound to this shrine – but I do have her feelings, her memories.

Every day as I watch Kotoko's daughter prepare for the day, cooking, dressing, tending to her sometimes-hungover father – I feel love, I feel pride. If I feel this strongly, I can not even imagine what Kotoko, in her place beyond this world, must feel.

I am not Fujioka Kotoko. I am, for all intents and purposes, merely a photograph. Something that she left behind.


	2. Piano

_I don't really own anything of value - so I can't really own Ouran, can I?_

* * *

><p><strong>2. Piano<strong>

It was utterly powerless. It could not create music alone. This was why it needed him. Without him, all it was was a useless thing. Perhaps, to those strange humans, it was beautiful in itself, but to it, there was little beauty in anything without function. Purpose, it thought, is key to beauty. And its purpose was to create music with a human's aid. And the purpose of the music was…. Well, that escaped it. But what did a simple being such as it need to think of such matters? It knew its own purpose. This was enough.

Every time his fingers, so slender and pale and soft, stroked its ebony-and-white keys, it was happy. It was beyond happy. If it had tear ducts, it would cry from sheer joy every time he played it – one tear for every note. It fulfilled its purpose, and this satisfied it.

In time, it came to appreciate more than just what his fingers could do. It came to love just the feel of his fingers, even if they simply rested atop its keys – something that had once made it impatient, greedy for more music. It came to appreciate _him_ in himself, not just his potential.

It began to find music beautiful.

One day, it realized it. It was just as the human boy turned to go, leaving it alone. _I love you,_ it thought as the lights were turned off and the door closed. Under its cover in Music Room #3, it did not know when the boy would lift the cover and begin to play it again. It did not know where it had gone. All it knew was that they would make music together, and be beautiful in themselves, all at once – it with its keys, and him with his fingers.


	3. Little Black Books

_Don't own it; don't claim to own it; no profit being made. Don't sue me, m'kay?_

**3. Little Black Books**

Ootori Kyoya is not omniscient. But he is close, very close. He sees and records everything of interest: every fact, every figure, every action and reaction. It is all there, in his current little black book.

Of course, a book does not have limitless pages. He goes through them at a rate of precisely four a year, and this is only possible because of his small, impeccably neat handwriting. Everything that happens in a given quarter is absorbed by the thin pages. Everything that he knows, thinks, predicts, calculates, and sees is in these books. But every now and then (the total count is three) he miscalculates.

Not the books. He has been keeping them since the beginning of his lower secondary education. Each time he finishes one, it is carefully put away into a private archive. He makes copies, of course, stored away on his laptop, but the books are the physical, tangible archive. They are the originals.

There are twenty of them now, and they whisper to each other, so very like their master in their calculations and careful observations. But they are not human; they never waver or err in their observing and calculating. They predicted everything that Kyoya could not: that Kyoya would fall for Haruhi, that Haruhi would fall for Tamaki, and that the twins' world would grow exponentially faster than expected.

No, Ootori Kyoya is not omniscient. But he could be, if he could just hear the things that his little black books whisper.


End file.
